


warmer

by thir13enth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, actually very much so, i just realized this is such a trope for me, includes snowballs and hot cocoa, it's kind of embarrassing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: he forgets that this is what it feels like to be numb.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for twelve days of shallura — **prompt:** cold/warmth

He almost forgot that snow existed.

It takes him a few blinks staring outside of the window to realize what’s going on.

There are so many things about Earth that completely surpassed his memory in his long enduring years traveling through space — from when he first launched off into the deep black starry sky, a happier man with a full head of black hair, to when he finally landed back to the dark brown earth of his home planet, one less a limb and —

Well, he supposes he’s still just as happy of a man, he thinks when Allura joins him to look out the frosted window.

“Is this…is this _snow_?” she asks him, her smile widening by the second.

He nods to confirm.

“Wow, this is just absolutely _amazing_ ,” she says, turning to him with bright eyes. “I’ve only _read_ about this in our textbooks — we had none of this in Altea.”

He snorts, teasing her. “If rain in Altea comprised of flaming rocks falling from acid clouds in the sky, I don’t know if I’d want to imagine what your version of snow was.”

She rolls her eyes at him before she returns her gaze to the fresh snow.

“You know, Shiro,” she muses. “For all the days that I’ve been here, Earth has always surprised me in _some_ way every day.”

She looks back at him, a gentle smile on her lips. He feels her right hand reach over to his left hand to lace their fingers together.

“I’m really glad that I decided to stay here with you,” she tells him.

His eyes slightly widen in surprise — not expecting such a genuine comment in the moment — but then he leans over and kisses her on the cheek tenderly.

“Me too,” he agrees.

She laughs softly. Her head tilts down and away from him, but he can see her hiding an embarrassed smile and glowing pink wings under both her eyes.

This brings a smile to his face, and he looks back out the window to watch the snowfall, as if looking at the chilly temperatures outside would help lessen the blush over his own cheeks.

“Why don’t we go out to enjoy this _snow_ then?” she suddenly suggests.

Without even waiting for his answer, she skips over to the front door to get ready for the outside. He finishes the last few gulps of the hot cocoa in his mug before setting the empty cup down on a nearby coffee table, then follows right behind her.

They add an extra layer over their sweaters, put on boots, and then wrap themselves in long and thick overcoats. Shiro helps her put on a scarf, and she discreetly grows a few inches in height in order to place a beanie over his head.

“Cozy?” he asks her.

She nods — if anything, a little stiffly because of the multiple layers over her shoulders.

He smiles and reaches for the door handle, pulling the front door open and letting the sharp cold wind blow into the house. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.

His lungs burn at the sudden intake of chilly air, but as much as it hurts, he feels like he’s regained a sense of himself.

It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long while.

Shiro opens his eyes, surveying the newly blanketed snow on the ground, then he looks back at Allura, grinning in invitation. “Come on,” he urges.

She seems to brace herself — Shiro noticed long ago that Allura isn’t the type to enjoy cold weather — ruffling herself, tucking her hands into her coat pockets, and hiding her chin inside of her scarf before stepping forward to join him outside. He closes the door behind her, then takes her hand and leads her straight into the snow.

She giggles in delight, hearing the snow crunch under her boots. Her breath forms small clouds in front of her face, and when her laughter clears, he just sees her white smile and excited eyes. He cherishes the look of happiness on her face until she bends down to touch the snow, making finger-wide tracks across the surface.

“I can’t quite pick this up,” she observes, the loose snow falling from her open hands. “It’s not quite a solid, is it?”

His smile widens. He doesn’t really remember the physics, but he’s pretty sure that snow’s a solid until it melts — except that this doesn’t explain why she can’t hold onto the snow the way she wants to.

“Here,” he offers, reaching forward to grab a handful. He packs it into a ball, passing the snow between his palms — and honestly, he’s surprised his body is moving on its own.

It’s like riding a bike or swimming or playing the piano — a distant memory, just like being on Earth — something so distant yet so close, something so strange but so familiar.

He begins to feel a cold sting form at the ends of his fingertips, yet another sensation that he’s forgotten existed and used to be part of his life. He smiles, despite the pain, and he looks down at his hands, seeing the pinking of his fingers from handling the raw snow — or at least in _one_ of his hands.

He blinks once, out of beat, a little lost in thought, but then recovers himself and hands her his formed snowball before looking back down at his hands again for a brief second.

He tucks his hands in his pockets.

She thanks him for the snow, observing its form for a moment before looking again at him.

“Shiro?”

He turns his head back to her. “Hm?”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed and a flat frown on her face.

He feels his hands clench within his coat. He thinks to say nothing, but he knows that she knows him better than that, so he pulls out both of his hands in front of him again — one flesh, the other metal.

“I can’t feel anything in this hand,” he says simply, looking down at the mechanical joints, steel fingers.

She looks down to where he’s looking for a quiet moment, and then looks up at him to give him some kind of an admonishing smile.

“Well, that’s because it’s cold outside, and you’re not wearing any gloves,” she clucks, pulling a pair of gloves from out of her right coat pocket.

She comes forward and fits the gloves over his left hand, then his right. She clasps them both together, heating them between her hands.

“A little better now, no?” she asks, looking up at him.

He smiles.

“Yeah. Much warmer.”


End file.
